Echo of the Caribbean
by GreenWood Elf
Summary: Still reeling from Elizabeth’s rejection Norrington finds himself floating away like an anchorless ship. But misery loves company and fate simply refuses to let him be.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello and welcome to my first ever POTC fic! I've decided to test the waters of this fandom (no pun intended) with this little story I thought up a few weeks ago. Firstly it is not Norrington/OC romance as it may appear to be but rather a Norrington/OC friendship story. I know I am mainly a romance writer but I decided to take a little break and we can't expect the poor Commodore to go jumping into another relationship so shortly after his upset with Elizabeth. That being said this fic is already complete so if I get a good response to this chapter an update won't be far away. Please leave feedback and let me know how I did my first time around. I will be forever grateful! So read and enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters. Lady Belham alone is mine.

**Echo of the Caribbean**

**Chapter One Her Ladyship the Fishwife**

Commodore James Norrington did not care much for sentiment. He preferred to keep emotion separate from duty and when duty took up most of his life that left little room for the former. So it was not strange to find him secluded in his office the day after Miss Swann the soon-to-be Mistress Turner had rejected his proposal. Keeping busy seemed like the best and only cure for heartbreak, or so he convinced himself. That and a fine bottle of brandy the night before helped to soothe the ache inside that groaned like the hull of a ship when struck by a tempestuous wave. There was little use in crying over spilt milk, especially considering the amount of work he faced.

The windows of his office opened towards the pristine harbor, a breeze trickling through the room which smelled of gunpowder and smoke, the latter emanating from the nearby hearth. The ocean lapped playfully against the rocks and the gulls chattered raucously outside on the walls of the fort. Disturbing as the noise could be he sought to ignore it as he settled himself wearily behind a parchment laden desk. The man's handsome face lined with worry, dashing eyes laced with the foul poison of exhaustion and pain, he looked a sorry business. The fresh powder from his wig dusted his broad shoulders, coating the blue coat with white and sticking to his hands every time he rubbed his palms over his temples. He sighed and ran his fingers along the creamy surface of each paper.

One would think that eliminating the greatest pirate threat in the Caribbean would bring nothing but glory and laurels. But the person who dared to think such a thing was indeed a fool and not very experienced in the nature of the Navy. While the Commodore's back had been turned and all his force focused on the hunt for Miss Swann and the _Black Pearl_, the scrappy Alistair of Scotland had sailed his ship the _Selchie _right under his nose. Alistair was a rascally fellow, who once or twice bestowed his plunder on a poor fishing village, therefore earning him a safe port, the loyalty of the people and a Robin Hood like repute. He could be more respected than other pirates, if indeed such a thing as a respectable pirate existed. Alistair had plundered an English passenger ship, one carrying a certain Lady Agnes Belham coming to her new residence in Port Royal. Apparently he pocketed the lady's finery and sent her sailing off in a longboat with the useless crew of the vessel.

Commodore Norrington could only picture the old woman's scandalized expression as she was rowed away without any of her effects. Unfortunately Lady Belham's hardship quickly became his. A ship had been dispatched to patrol the waters for any sign of the scallywag and her ladyship quickly transported to Port Royal by more humble means. Norrington rested his head in his hands. At this rate Jack Sparrow would be given a two day head start.

Thinking of the pirate brought back the memories of the day before. They rushed into his mind like waves breaking against the onyx rocks, the blue waters turning gray and stirring viciously. He felt as though he had been smashed upon the rocks, his body broken and beaten beyond recognition, every emotion blotted out except the terrible pain that seared through him. Oh Elizabeth. It seemed like folly now, those few panic stricken days spent on the ocean. The incessant worry that something horrid had happened to his beloved at the hands of pirates, the daring rescues, the life and death struggles. And she had chosen the blacksmith, the Turner boy, a pirate himself. It had all been for naught.

Norrington felt his heart sink like the rotting ship in his breast. The Caribbean breezes reaching in through his windows only made matters worse. The sweet scent of exotic flowers, the intoxication of the salty sea, it all reminded him of her. Elizabeth's very smile would haunt him throughout the days of his life, as a siren's song that echoes in the mind of the listener. Never before had James Norrington thought that such a fate would be his. He had been naïve perhaps, expecting a happy ending. What man does not dream of a happy ending? He felt so close, the thought nearly killed him.

With a groan the Commodore sat back in his chair, abandoning the papers that fluttered like wings. There would be no avoiding the pain, not when it fairly gnawed at him. He struggled against the emotion, but it was like drowning, the more he gasped for air the more the grief filled him. For an instant he felt his eyes burn….

The door to his office flew open and a mischievous face appeared.

"Good morning Commodore, sir," Lieutenant Gillette smiled despite the somber mood. Norrington grimaced and pointedly looked away from his subordinate's cheerful manner. Not always did the two see eye to eye, Gillette's Machiavellian behavior and impish grins rubbed him the wrong way. And unfortunately for the Commodore, Lieutenant Gillette was completely aware of it and delighted in tormenting him in subtly.

"I trust you are well," he continued, shuffling the papers in his grasp.

"Well enough Lieutenant. I'm alive aren't I?" Norrington smiled sardonically and appeared unperturbed.

Gillette frowned, his boyish face pallid as the strong sunlight reflected off the polished wooden floor. "Any news from Lady Belham?"

"No," the Commodore mumbled. "All the better I suppose. She should be arriving within the next several days."

"That is if Jack Sparrow doesn't have his say." Gillette's smile returned as he watched his commander's discomfort.

"I am confident that he will not trouble her ladyship, after all Alistair has already taken all she had." Norrington turned back to his paper work with little concern.

"Very well sir," the Lieutenant said adding a dramatic sigh.

A moment of silence stretched across the room. The Commodore reached forward and dipped his quill pen in a silver inkwell before scratching out a few words on a sheet of parchment. Gillette busied himself amongst his notes, brow creased as he searched for something in particular.

"Sir, there are some matters that require your attention," he said at length. "Ah here we are!" He rearranged his papers and held out a small slip for inspection. "An invitation came earlier today."

Norrington felt his heart wrench painfully in his chest as his eyes wandered over the scrolling penmanship. It was from Governor Swann. Under the glance of Gillette he read the note, a headache forming in his right temple. A party had been arranged in three days time celebrating Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Turner. And, as the devil would have it, he was so courteously invited.

In disgust he threw the invitation on the table in front of him and rubbed his fingers over his temples in an attempt to chase away the pain.

"Sir?" Gillette watched him interestedly. The urge to smash that arrogant look off his face rose within Norrington so fiercely that he clenched his hands together.

"You may inform the Governor that I will indeed be present at his gathering," he answered, trying to sound indifferent.

"Yes sir." Gillette looked shocked.

"Any other business I must attend to, Lieutenant?" he asked, wanting the man out of his office as soon as possible.

"Yes sir, a small matter. The fishwife wishes to settle her account with you. She is retiring from the business I believe."

"Send her in when she arrives then."

"Of course sir."

"Dismissed."

Gillette saluted smartly and hurried from the office. Norrington was blessedly left alone for the next hour, which he spent ruminating over the event that faced him. Governor Swann would never let such a momentous occasion pass without a celebration of some kind. It only made sense that he would be invited, after all he was the man responsible for his daughter's safe return. His reflections were cut short, however, when Gillette announced the arrival of a woman who wished to see him. But being the man that he was, Gillette conveniently neglected to tell him just _who_ had arrived. Norrington gave him leave to admit the woman and sat back in the gloomy silence that enveloped him. After a moment the Lieutenant returned with the woman in tow.

"Commodore Norrington?" Her shrill voice broke through his thoughts.

Norrington looked up from the carvings that lined his desk, the sudden smell of rotting fish permeated throughout his office. The stench was terrible and he fought the urge to cover his nose. He stared at the woman standing a foot away, her cheeks sunburned and freckles dancing across her pert nose. Her hands were cracked and burnt in the same fashion and the woman's dress alluded to a person of lower stature. The homespun skirt was badly stained about the hem suggesting she spent her day mucking through fish entrails. Norrington sighed, he had not the mind, nor the stomach therefore, to deal with such a person today.

Mustering a polite smile from somewhere, he said, "Ah, good day ma'am. You are the fishwife I trust."

The woman gaped, her small mouth falling open. "Fishwife?"

Gillette shuffled his papers to hide his laughter, biting the inside of his cheek to force back the smile that threatened to invade his countenance.

"Fishwife?" she repeated once more sounding incredulous. "You take me for a fishwife?"

The Commodore cringed, realizing his mistake too late.

"I am no fishwife, sir," she spat, eyebrows arching angrily. "I am Lady Belham, a passenger on the ship you neglected to see safely into Port Royal."

"Dear Madam!" Norrington was on his feet at once, ignoring the headache that shot through his temples. With the gracious air that only a gentleman of his reputation could possess, he bowed and picked up her less than delicate hand to kiss it. The woman however, remained offended and pulled away hastily. He looked her over more carefully this time. She looked young. Somehow the name Agnes Belham had left the impression of a stiff old woman lodged in his mind. "Forgive my wrongful insult. I happened to be…:"

"Bah!" She waved one reddened hand in his face. "It is because of you, Commodore, that I have been so greatly reduced. After that knave of a pirate made off with all my possessions I was left with nothing and could only seek refuge with a horrid fishing ship." Lady Belham slapped her rough dress. "This is all that could be afforded a woman of high standing. I trust, sir that I will not find the rest of the Caribbean bereft of dignity."

"No, my lady, no." Norrington attempted to soothe the distressed woman, keeping his voice calm. Gillette chuckled softly from the corner, earning a scathing glare from his commander. "Your misfortune is quite singular, I assure you. I give you my word that your stay in Port Royal shall be nothing but pleasant." She might not have been an old woman, but she seemed as severe. Her blue eyes narrowed, pulling her face into an unyielding mask. Lady Belham's countenance did not have the same gentle appearance that normally resided with a girl her age. She had a troubled look about her with pinched cheeks and a tight forehead that expressed every unsettling thought.

"Well," she sniffed, her high-cut nostrils dilating, "what do you intend to do about it?"

"My lady?" Norrington stuttered, unsure of what she meant. "I have dispatched a ship to search for…"

"No," Lady Belham drawled. "What are you going to do about my current circumstances? My household is not yet prepared for my arrival and I am without my personal effects. What do you intend to do about it Commodore?"

Norrington felt at a loss for words. He looked quickly to Gillette who simply shrugged. _Damn him_, he thought bitterly. _He always has an opinion when not wanted and now he is mute. _"My lady I am sure we can find some place for you to occupy for the time being," he said finally, thoughts tumbling together. "There is The Royal, a fine inn just a little way from…."

"The Royal, sir?" Gillette mused. "The bedbugs have bedbugs in that place."

_Just in time. _Norrington cursed the man bitterly, smiling politely at the woman whose scowl deepened.

"There are many families of good standing that I am sure would be happy to…."

"I will not stay with some middle-class merchant who I am not at all acquainted with," she protested, her posture straightening as if he had suggested she sleep in the street like a common urchin.

"Well, then I do not see…."

"She could reside with you, sir," Gillette broke in, his voice ringing in a most annoying fashion. Norrington cringed for the second time that morning. What made matters worse was that the lady appeared pleased with this notion.

"It is unseemly," he said hurriedly.

"What is unseemly, sir, if I may offer my view, is the manner in which this lady has been treated."

"Yes, quite true Lieutenant. The Commodore's house will do nicely." Lady Belham smiled and nodded respectfully, her brown hair nearly coming undone from its precarious knot atop her head. "Now what about my effects? I'm afraid this wretched rag is the only thing I have. Commodore Norrington I trust you will see to that as well."

"Yes my lady," he replied wearily, still suffering from the prospect of having her in his household for the next several days. "I shall see if any woman might lend you…."

"Lend me?"

"I…I shall send for the dressmaker then," he finished, feeling the energy drain out of him.

"At your expense, sir?" Gillette couldn't resist the temptation to interrupt once more.

"Yes that does seem fair," she agreed readily. "After all, it is his fault for casting me to the pirates in the first place."

Norrington shook his head in disbelief but managed to swallow the idea. If that was the worst thing that happened to him….

"What of your other effects, my lady?" Gillette continued.

She shrugged. "They were of little value, except for one exceptionally beautiful diamond necklace." The two turned to stare at him.

"I suppose I will send for the jeweler as well." Norrington sank into his chair. Luckily he had set some money aside for frivolous expenses, hoping it could have been used for the wedding. He shook his head, the powder from his wig staining the air like dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight.

Lady Belham appeared in a slightly better temper now.

"I thank you for your hospitality Commodore," she said stiffly. "Perhaps I shall enjoy my stay in Port Royal after all."

Norrington could only nod weakly. Just a week ago he had dreamt of bringing his blushing bride into his home, but now he would be stuck with this miserable wretch. His thoughts must have showed on his face for her ladyship frowned.

"I hope I am not intruding on anything…"

"No," the Commodore mumbled bitterly. "There is nothing for you to intrude upon, my lady."

"Wonderful," she replied. "Now if I may be afforded the chance to rest and wash."

"Of course." Amazingly Norrington mastered his manners. "I will have an escort show you to my home. And again I feel I must apologize for your inconvenience on the seas."

"No matter sir," she said in a voice that convinced Norrington she indeed considered it a matter. The woman turned to leave, her filthy skirts rustling as she reached the door.

"Welcome to Port Royal, my lady," Gillette chimed in sweetly.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She offered him a kind smile but shot Norrington an annoyed glance, upset that he had not extended the same courtesy to her. Then with an arrogant toss of her head she glided from the room, shutting the door rather loudly behind her. Norrington massaged his temples and groaned.

"I like her," Gillette noted cheerfully.

"At least one of us does," Norrington blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to rid himself of the throb as he looked back to his papers. "Let us hope this week does not worsen. I half expect a hurricane to come barreling through next."

"I think it just did sir," his subordinate muttered, his gaze firmly fixed on the door.

**Author's Note: **What did you think? Please let me know. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2 Gillette's Advice

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to my second chapter! I would like to my two reviewers, childofGod-4ever and just visiting for their kind reviews. And also thank you to anyone who has read. Now as a warning the subject of love is brought up between Lady Belham and the Commodore in this chapter but I assure you this story is strictly about friendship. Please tell me what you think. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters. Lady Belham alone is mine.

**Chapter Two Gillette's Advice**

Norrington awoke the next morning to a certain marching sensation on his chest. Sitting up slowly he dislodged the house-keeper's ratty looking cat from his torso. The creature leapt to the carpeted floor and hissed, her back arching for a moment before she scampered away. He groaned and flopped back onto his feather bed for a moment, the bedclothes smelling faintly musty. _Hmm I must remind the maid to clean the sheets_, he thought with a trace of disgust. As a naturally clean man he liked his house to be kept well even though he rarely had company. No, company was troublesome. He liked to think of them more as invaders of privacy than anything else. But he wouldn't have minded sharing his home with Elizabeth….

Company, the thought disturbed him oddly. Norrington sighed and swung his long legs over the side of the bed and drew back the curtains. Fine rays of sunlight crawled across the floor, sneaking through the half-closed slats in the shuttered windows. Suddenly he remembered that Lady Belham rested only two doors down from him. He groaned, his shoulders sagging at the very thought. No, he _did_ have company.

Muttering a curse, the Commodore stood, the bed creaking softly as his weight was lifted off. When he had returned to his home the previous night dreading the woman's presence his prayers appeared answered. The stern lady was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she had found residence with some other unfortunate soul and had neglected to tell him. But as he strolled peacefully towards a small balcony that led out into the gardens his hopes were dashed. There sat the woman, mumbling darkly of how the smell of sea made her dizzy.

God had decided to be merciful however, as the lady announced she had dined already and fully intended to take to her bed early that night. Norrington was relieved knowing he would not be forced to endure her austere company for the rest of the evening. He ate hurriedly himself and ran up to bed to sit by the open windows with a good book. The sea air did not bother him in the least, quite the opposite. A single swift breeze could intoxicate him thoroughly, spinning his senses like a whirlpool. Trying not to think on his troubles, the Commodore enjoyed that evening, watching the stars scattered throughout the silky heavens.

But soon the tramping of the servants below disturbed his serenity. They trod up and down the stairs with many a grunt and groan. It appeared that her ladyship had ordered a bath and water must be boiled for her to wash thoroughly. And even though her luxuries came at the price of his peace, he found he could not blame her. After all she really did stink.

Norrington dressed a bit more slowly than usual that morning, taking his time in arranging his stock and pulling on his boots with more care than necessary. By the time he finished the barber was already waiting impatiently outside to fix his hair. Childishly, the officer shifted in his chair while the powder was applied and caused the barber to spill it all over his shoulders.

"Hold still now sir," the barber scolded, brushing the white residue off his blue coat. Norrington followed his advice more closely when shaved, for it was one thing to go out with a little powder dusting your clothes and quite another to have your throat slit by accident. After a short time (too short in his mind) the barber pronounced his work done. He now could go down to breakfast.

_You are being ridiculous James,_ he told himself as he strolled carefully down the stairs, minding the creaking floorboards. He did not want to wake her if she still slept. But as he neared the dining room and heard that well groomed voice asking for more tea he cringed. It seemed like God's mercy had fallen short or perhaps his luck simply ran out, whatever the reason Commodore Norrington would be forced to breakfast with Lady Belham.

Norrington stopped just outside the door and drew himself up. _I am making it much worse than it actually is, _he thought. _She is just a woman. And she does have the right to be angry with me. The fault is truly mine. _

But why did the blame always fall on him? He shook his head vigorously. Sometimes he fancied he would rather be a lowly soldier instead of a commodore, the pressure was much less. Now though, did not seem like the time to debate his choices in life. The Commodore fixed a polite, unassuming smile on his face and headed into the dining room.

Lady Belham sat on one side of the long table while an empty place appeared just across from her. The woman's posture displayed her station as she perched stiffly in her chair, back so straight that her shoulder blades touched. She wore a green silk gown that didn't seem to fit properly and her hair arranged simply. But unfortunately her dresser had been overzealous with the use of facial powder and had dabbed it on so thickly to cover the sunburn that it caked unevenly on her face. And now instead of smelling like rotting fish the scent of rosewater became overwhelming. The bath obviously did little to erase the stench of hundreds of fish so the perfumed water had been used, though at this moment Norrington did not know which smelled worse.

Still he bowed genteelly to the woman who nodded coldly back.

"Good morning to you my lady, I trust you are well rested?" he asked smoothly as he slid into the seat opposite her.

"Well enough, Commodore." She smiled briefly. "And you?"

"Yes, my lady, I slept quite well."

Lady Belham wrapped her thin fingers around a tea cup. "I could not escape the sound of lapping waves."

"Ah of course." Norrington unfolded a linen napkin and tucked it carefully over his uniform jacket. "The echo of the Caribbean. I find it soothing."

"I don't," her voice sounded muffled as she lifted the cup to her lips.

"You will become accustomed to it in time, Lady Belham," he replied calmly. "I find that I am unable to sleep without that sound."

"Well, that is assuming I will remain in the Caribbean."

"Oh?" He tried to sound indifferent but a trickle of hope worked its way into his tone. "You mean to say this may not be your fixed residence from now on?"

"One never knows," she muttered distractedly.

Norrington fought the urge to question her. Now that his anger and grief had subsided he began to wonder. Why would such a young woman leave England for the Caribbean? She was not even accompanied by family. But the thought of dragging her into an unwanted conversation stayed his curiosities for the time being. He decided to change the subject.

"Have you heard any news regarding your own household my lady?" he questioned lightly as a servant dished slices of fresh fish onto his and his guest's plate. The Commodore could not help but grin sympathetically as he noticed her nose wrinkle at the smell.

"Yes, I managed to speak with my housekeeper yesterday afternoon," she replied picking up her fork. "It appears that the furniture I ordered has not yet been delivered by the craftsman so I will need to take advantage of your courtesy a little longer, sir."

_Take advantage is right_, he thought sourly but kept his features soft. "How much longer, my lady?"

"A week."

"A week?" He tried to say it nonchalantly but instead his voice came out high and thin.

Lady Belham raised her eyebrows. "Yes Commodore, is that a problem?"

"No," Norrington said though every fiber of his being screamed otherwise. A week? Even if she acted pleasant it felt like a burden. He was a private man, preferring to keep society where it belonged, outside. Having to keep up appearances while he relaxed in his own home made him feel ill.

He shifted quietly in his chair and fiddled tensely with his knife. "Have you consulted with the dressmaker yet, my lady?"

"Yes, a most agreeable woman," she said, spreading some fresh preserves on a thin piece of bread. "We discussed my wardrobe for quite some time. How fortunate for me that a new shipment of fabrics arrived from England just last week. I shall be able to outfit myself nicely."

Norrington stared at the white tablecloth beneath his fingertips. Lord only knew how much this whole proposition would cost him. He decided not to ask after the jeweler; right now he didn't have the stomach for it.

Silence stretched between them, taut and tense like a sail caught in a strong wind. They continued their meal, interrupted only by servants who kept their tea cups brimming with the golden brew. The scent of the exotic flowers that grew outside in the garden soon overpowered the rosewater. As Norrington settled himself in his chair he began to think that he might just make it through the meal unscathed. Then he could hurry off to the Fort on the pretext of urgent business that would take him away from her all day. But Lady Belham was not satisfied with the lapse in conversation. She studied the man closely, letting her eyes linger on his every feature as though she were trying to dissect him visually.

"Are you a good dancer, Commodore?" she asked at length.

"Pardon me, my lady?" He looked up at her quickly.

"Are you a good dancer?" she repeated slowly, tapping her fingers along the gilded edge of the tea cup.

"I can follow the dances at balls well enough," Norrington allowed. He didn't want to appear boastful but he had been told many a time that he was accomplished in that particular art. Even Elizabeth had said it once….

Lady Belham laughed quietly. "Is that so? I myself am a terrible dancer."

"Is that so," Norrington responded indifferently, unsure of what she meant by bringing up such a subject.

"You see." She leaned forward a bit her eyes narrowed in thought. "I equate dancing to love, sir."

"Love?" The word lodged uncomfortably in his throat.

"Love," she spoke calmly, letting the phrase hang from her lips. "Dancing is a curious act. It intends to bring people together as much as keep them apart. For a moment a couple dancing might pull together and then another step will push them away. Love is the same way, moments of closeness and moments of separation, but still shared between two people."

"I see." Norrington felt his throat go dry.

"When I dance I always look for a partner worse off than me," Lady Belham continued straightforwardly. "So I am not the one looked down upon, I shall be considered the better dancer. But still my dancing suffers, perhaps if I was wiser and chose better partners…." She trailed off with a knowing grin. "I have heard your engagement to one Miss Elizabeth Swann was broken off only a few days past."

"How did you know?" he asked, his voice sounding dull and desperate in his own ears. He did not want to discuss Elizabeth with her, or anyone for that matter.

"The talk of the town," she replied. "If you want my opinion, Commodore…"

"No," he said quickly and a bit more harshly than he intended.

The woman gazed back at him for a moment, obviously offended. "Very well then." She stood, her skirts swishing against the legs of the chair. He stood as well, pure instinct for a gentleman. "You must excuse me Commodore Norrington," she said. "I have affairs I must intend to."

"Of course my lady." He bowed once more, wishing he had held his tongue and not angered her. "Good day to you."

She did not answer but instead left the room.

* * *

"Tell me Lieutenant, did the real fishwife ever arrive yesterday?"

Gillette smiled widely. "No sir, I am afraid not. She sent a message along with her son stating that she would have to put off her meeting with you until the end of the week."

"Indeed." Norrington dropped his eyes from the smirking Lieutenant and gazed out the window of his office. The sky was a soft blue, wispy clouds skirting the horizon as ships bobbed pleasantly in the harbor below, by all accounts a beautiful day for early summer. The heat had not become as oppressive and humid as it tended to do, the air instead remaining fresh. The Commodore enjoyed the scenic beauty of home, a place he never thought he could love. After all the contrast with England could not be greater, he used to miss the green moors and the moody sky, the wind thick with the scent of moss and rain. But soon he came to love his tropical home, the warm sun and balmy nights.

Gillette sniffed loudly from where he stood, eager to be done with his daily report. "Might I enquire as to Lady Belham, sir? How does she fare?"

"Fine," Norrington replied tersely, not taking his eyes from the waves huddled about the rocks below.

"Have you given any thought to Governor Swann's celebration, sir?" Gillette dared, watching his commander cringe.

"Why would I, Lieutenant?"

Gillette shrugged, casting the man an innocent smile. "No reason sir, I just wondered if you had found anyone to accompany you as of yet."

"What?" Norrington whipped around, abandoning his sweet Caribbean reverie.

"Well, seeing as Miss Swann is…"Gillette instantly knew he had gone too far. The Commodore's face darkened, a scowl forming on his lips.

"What exactly are you suggesting, Lieutenant?" Norrington growled, as his subordinate took a cautious step back.

"Nothing sir," Gillette replied quickly, dropping his eyes to the scuff marks on the floor.

"If you must know I will ask Miss Martha Bartley to accompany me for the evening," he said, trying to prove that he was not bothered by Elizabeth's engagement. Though truth be told, he wasn't sure himself.

"Forgive me for saying so sir," Gillette answered, regaining some of his confidence. "But Miss Bartley is being escorted by Captain Marshal."

"Ah, so I see," Norrington mumbled nonchalantly. "Well then I am sure Miss Isabelle Wickham."

"Lieutenant Groves, sir," Gillette said sharply.

"Then Miss Sara Birch."

"Ensign Randolph, sir."

"Ensign?" Norrington sat back in his chair feeling defeated. He searched his mind frantically for any woman that could possibly be suitable for him to escort. Gillette surveyed him smugly. Of course anyone stationed at the Fort knew he could always be counted on to repeat any news heard. Though he much preferred the term "news" to "gossip" for gossip was old wives work. The Commodore leaned heavily on his hands. Asking Gillette for help would be like hoisting the white flag in front of all of his enemies. But it would be even more embarrassing to show up at the event lacking a partner.

"Gillette?"

"Yes sir?" The Lieutenant replied cheerfully.

Norrington sighed. "Do you know of any young lady who would be free to accompany me to Governor Swann's for the evening?"

"Well sir," Gillette frowned slightly as if deep in thought. "That is a tricky problem you pose, for I _do_ know of a fine woman in need of an escort."

"What is her name?" Norrington said slowly. He did not much care for his subordinate's tone.

"Lady Belham sir," Gillette pronounced gleefully. "She received an invitation from Governor Swann upon her arrival in Port Royal."

Norrington was speechless.

"After all sir," Gillette continued, "it is only proper to escort her ladyship, due to your certain predicament." Upon seeing the Commodore's lack of enthusiasm he added quickly, "But I should be happy to escort her if you wish. I am sure we would have a grand time."

Briefly, Norrington pictured Lady Belham and Gillette in the midst of the gossiping crowds. No, he could not allow that.

"There is nothing for it then," he said dully. "I will escort Lady Belham." To his surprise Gillette appeared disappointed.

"Yes sir that will do nicely, but I believe there is one thing you are forgetting."

"What's that Lieutenant?"

"You haven't asked her is _she_ will accompany _you_ yet."


End file.
